If you look at a micrograph
or an electron picture
of the sharpest, cleanest metal blade
you’ll see dullness
and jagged-edged teeth.

You’ll know that this knife –
this knife rips when it cuts.

Use the same magnification
the same imaging techniques
on a shard of obsidian glass
you’ll see  smooth lines
and conchoidal-edged crystal.

You’ll know that this blade –
this blade slices, splitting cleanly.

I’ve been cut by glass before
A slit so subtle,
so deep,
I never noticed
until I’d bled almost dry.

But not you.
When you cut me I know it
I feel the rip,
the blood torn out of me.
To stanch or let flow as I
as we
see fit.
And I know you –
You are my steel blade.

For you, I’ll bare my chest.
For you, I’ll show my neck.

Blade the May-June Gallery selection at The Erotic Readers and Writers Association.

Also tweeted for #wankwedensday 5/18/11

Categories: Erotica, Monocle, PoetryTags: , ,


I am the little devil on your shoulder, stroking your neck with my tail, whispering obscenities into your ear, and looking down your blouse. One third of The Erotic Writer blog.


  1. Ava

    Dear god, did I die and go to poet’s heaven? Brilliant piece my friend, absolutely brilliant. Never expected that twist. Well done.

  2. Monocle

    Thank you all very much. (I still don’t feel like a poet – I wish I understood the whys and wherefores of that)

  3. Monocle

    I can’t thank you all enough. I really appreciate your kind words, and glad the piece spoke to different people in different ways.

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